


forget all about the storm outside (the lay your body down remix)

by htbthomas



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, POV switch, Remix
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-29
Updated: 2015-06-29
Packaged: 2018-04-05 02:37:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4162470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/htbthomas/pseuds/htbthomas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Foggy knows this: for Maddie, night doesn’t exist. </p><p>Darkness, now, that’s a whole different story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	forget all about the storm outside (the lay your body down remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [evewithanapple](https://archiveofourown.org/users/evewithanapple/gifts).
  * Inspired by [lay your body down](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3818074) by [evewithanapple](https://archiveofourown.org/users/evewithanapple/pseuds/evewithanapple). 



> Thanks to blithers for the beta as always. ♥

Foggy has never liked the nighttime. Night is full of shadows that obscure faces or overly bright lights that throw those same faces into grotesque color and relief. Night masks intention and action, makes the coward brave and the brave fearful. Night is meant to be spent in slumber, to refresh the soul for the important work of day.

Night is hell.

She’s always thought so, from childhood on, and after she met Maddie, that didn’t really change. In fact, she’d always felt sorry for her best friend, that she was cursed to live in a world of night twenty-four hours a day, never able to see the light of day again, only able to feel its warmth on her skin. Did Foggy turn up the warmth in her voice, the brightness of her words, the weight of her touch to try to make up for it? Maybe, though that’s not the whole reason. 

Now Foggy knows better. Knows that for Maddie, there is no night. She can see as well as Foggy, no, she can see even better. Perceiving shape through touch, emotion through hearing, presence through smell… probably something through taste, though they haven’t gone into detail about what Maddie can do, or how she can do it. But Foggy knows this: for Maddie, night doesn’t exist. 

Darkness, now, that’s a whole different story.

Maddie’s out there in the night, trying to eradicate the darkness she can’t touch during the day. She covers her eyes with that mask, blending even more into the night than the people who thrive there, the people who use that darkness to hide. They can’t hide from Maddie. Hell’s Kitchen is learning that. The City is learning that. 

Foggy glances at the time on her phone. It’s late, too late. She’s been sitting on this couch for hours, listening to the rain outside the window, waiting for Maddie to come home. She’d tried to sleep at her apartment and failed. Even a delivery pizza and a late-night cable movie hadn’t helped. Most nights since she learned the truth it’s been a struggle. Her eyelids close to the image of Maddie slumped on the floor in a pool of her own blood, and if she does manage to sleep her brain invents new scenarios that are far worse. 

So she’s here. Better here than home. If Maddie comes home, she’ll be able to rest. If she doesn’t… 

Foggy puts the thought out of her mind. She’s seen Maddie fight, seen her move with almost supernatural speed and agility. She’s smart, she’s strong. She’ll come home. She has to. She—

There’s a thud on the hardwood floor, just out of her line of vision. Her body tenses and she has to fight to catch her breath. Is somebody coming for Maddie? Have they learned that she’s the woman in the mask?

She turns, and sees a body lying there, unmoving for a long, heart-pounding moment. Then the figure lifts its head and a tired voice, tireder than she is, creaks out, “Foggy?”

“For fuck’s sake,” Foggy says with one-third relief, one-third worry, one-third frustration. Once she reaches Maddie’s side, she crosses her arms. “What the hell did you do to yourself this time?” Maybe _half_ frustration.

Maddie murmurs, “...see the other guy.”—but she doesn’t move, her energy undoubtedly spent beating that darkness into submission.

Her breath sighs out as she lifts Maddie to her feet, and with it, much of the frustration turns to concern. She’s heavier than she looks, all muscle under that wet, black clothing. When she sags down onto Foggy’s shoulder, it takes a moment to readjust, Foggy wrapping her arms around Maddie’s torso. Then in an instant, everything is different, Maddie curling into her like a little girl with her mother. 

No, it’s not like that at all. Maddie’s breath tickles the hairs on her neck, sending a shiver down her spine—a shiver she hasn’t felt in a long time. Certainly not in the rocky months since she discovered the masked woman doling out vigilante justice with her fists and her best friend and law partner were one and the same. Almost like college, when Maddie’s smile would nearly make her melt and she was goddamn glad Maddie couldn’t see how flustered she got. Except she could, all along. 

Maddie shifts again, breaking the spell, and it reminds Foggy again just how heavy she is. She wrangles Maddie to the couch to lie down, stripping off first the coat, then the boots, and finally the mask, which is soaked through, with rain… or blood… she doesn’t want to think about it too much. She gently pushes the hair out of Maddie’s eyes, partly to check for wounds, partly to make sure she’s okay. There they are, the signs of Claire’s handiwork—a butterfly bandage and discoloration from antiseptic—Foggy lets herself relax a little more.

Until she sees the tears leaking from Maddie’s eyes, mixing in with the few rain droplets that still cling to her face. Foggy wipes them away with gentle hands. “Oh, Maddie.” 

Maddie’s eyes close, then, so Foggy doesn’t stop, smoothing away the tension in Maddie’s face, watching as her body slowly sinks down into the cushions. The shroud of mystery Maddie wears seems to fall away at Foggy’s touch. Foggy can almost see it happening, stroke by stroke, the weight lifting, the darkness melting from every line of her body. So she runs her fingers through Maddie’s hair, across her face, using the flat of her palm and the tips of the fingers, lightly raking her nails across the scalp and down the line of her neck to the point where her hair is still tied back with elastic. 

And as Maddie relaxes she almost becomes herself again, back to the woman that Foggy cares so damn much about that it physically hurts to see her this way. As soon as she thinks it, she catches herself—no, this is part of Maddie, too, the part that no one sees, none but a few. She’s let Foggy in completely—finally—even though Foggy finding out the truth was unintentional. Her fucking need to protect others, to fight other people’s battles—why didn’t she know that Foggy was the last person who needed that? The last person who _wanted_ that? 

Maddie sighs then, long and deep, and it breaks Foggy’s train of thought. “You should be in bed,” Foggy says. “Probably. I mean, I’m not a doctor or anything, but you look pretty—” She whistles. “Like something that lost a fight with a cat. An angry cat.”

Maddie’s lips twist up in amusement, and she huffs a laugh. “I think the phrase is ‘something the cat dragged in.’”

“Whatever.” There’ll be plenty of time to debate language later, after Maddie’s gotten a few hours of sleep, if they even care. “That too. Can you get up, or do I have to drag you?”

“I’m up.” Maddie says, shrugging off the arm Foggy tries to place behind her shoulders. She levers herself up slowly, too slowly, trying to hide how much pain she’s in, but failing. Foggy doesn’t say anything, just walks a close step behind, her hand there for support if she needs it. Maddie would never admit it—she thinks she has to do it all herself—but she _does_ need it. From Foggy, from Claire, even from Karen if she would just think it through. As long as Maddie’s sense of guilt, or need for justice… or just plain stubbornness… keeps her out there every night fighting back the darkness, she’s going to need it.

Maddie finally makes it to the bed, curling up on her side, not bothering with covers. Without thinking, Foggy’s right there beside her, slipping an arm around Maddie’s waist. “You don’t have to—” she starts to protest.

Foggy isn’t having any of that. “I want to.” She snuggles in close, lips pressed against Maddie’s neck. “Shut up,” she murmurs, just in case. "Go to sleep. You can beat the bad guys up tomorrow." Maddie doesn’t try to argue this time. Good. Foggy nestles in a little closer.

Then it finally hits her, all the hours of sleeplessness and worry, and she starts to sink into unconsciousness. Later, when she wakes, Maddie has turned toward her, cradling her protectively as if _Foggy_ were the one who had stumbled home bleeding and bone-tired. Foggy just smiles and goes back to sleep. Night seems a little less difficult when they’re together.


End file.
